"The First Thanksgiving," by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris (1863–1930).‘The Pilgrim’ by John Bunyan (1628-1688) The Society November 24, 2016 Culture, Poetry 1 Comment Who would true Valor see Let him come hither; One here will Constant be, Come Wind, come Weather. There’s no Discouragement, Shall make him once Relent, His first avowed Intent, To be a Pilgrim. Who so beset him round, With dismal Stories, Do but themselves Confound; His Strength the more is. No Lion can him fright, He’ll with a Giant Fight, But he will have a right, To be a Pilgrim. Hobgoblin, nor foul Fiend, Can daunt his Spirit: He knows, he at the end, Shall Life Inherit. Then Fancies fly away, He’ll fear not what men say, He’ll labor Night and Day, To be a Pilgrim. John Bunyan was himself a persecuted English puritan who was imprisoned for twelve years. He is best known for his novel, The Pilgrim’s Progress. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) One Response Wilude Scabere November 28, 2016 Bunyan, the noted writer of prose, could also write fine verse. He gains a lot with his ingenious metre, a mixture of iambic trimeters (u / u / u /) mixed with iambic dimeters (u / u / u), the former in lines 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, and the latter in lines 2, 4, 8. And though inversions are anathema to present poetasters, his are really quite good, as in, “Do but themselves confound/ His strength the more is” or “He knows, he at the end/ Shall Life inherit.” I also genuinely like the precision of his metre in this particular poem. In addition, I appreciate his repetition (“Come Wind, come Weather, etc.), his refrain, his archaisms, his rhymes, like “Stories/more is,” his assonance, like “No Lion can him fright. He’ll with a Giant fight. But he will have a right…” and the topic itself, undoubtedly lost on much of this generation. It is amazing to me what he achieves with such a simple diction. I find this poem of John Bunyan’s refreshing, especially compared to accumulating garbage of so many poets of the last few centuries. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.